


When Two Hearts

by ChandlerBlue



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Falling In Love, Husbands, Idiots in Love, Journey, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Deserves Nice Things, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, POV Mickey Milkovich, Sad Mickey Milkovich, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 05, Season/Series 07, Season/Series 09, Season/Series 10, Soft Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Soft Mickey Milkovich, Spoilers, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29879175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChandlerBlue/pseuds/ChandlerBlue
Summary: Ian and Mickey sleeping together throughout the years. A reflection of their best and worst times and how they always came out on top.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	When Two Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope I did justice to this. It's supposed to be kind of like a 5+1 thing, but once you start reading you realize it isn't really, lmao. I appreciate all and any feedback, thank you, and enjoy!! - C.B.  
> p.s. who can't wait for tomorrow to just already be here??

season 3   
"when two hearts imprisoned in a world of hate wanted nothing more than to love"

Mickey's room was enveloped in complete darkness, the only dash of light being the fair glow of the shitty street lamp from the outside mingled with the bright glowing moon. It was a mess, as usual, random weapons scattered across the dust-covered surfaces, clothes littering the dirt-stricken floor in piles or simply in random places Mickey had mindlessly thrown them to, walls covered in posters, some of which were crookedly dangling to the side, the tape gluing them to the yellow concrete, now dry and useless. Usually, this room represented the exterior of what was supposed to be the infamous Mickey Milkovich, southside thug, fag-beater, fucked-for-life criminal. That was what Mickey was to everyone else. 

Everyone else but Ian.

The bed pressed against the wall was never occupied by anyone else but Mickey at once -- hell, barely anyone was ever in the vertigo of a room when Mickey was present -- but now, as the sheets lay scattered across the mattress, sweat dampening them, making them even dirtier than they already were, the pillows underneath the two bodies in weird angles, not that either of them cared in their post-orgasm state -- it was a temporary home for two broken boys, who, for the first time since they've known each other and each other's bodies, were truly discovering the meaning of bliss.

Mickey knew what he wanted when he invited Ian over to crash at his place. The chaste press of lips in the van was enough for him to never let his mind wander elsewhere -- he kept replaying the moment their lips met for a brief second on a loop, unable to stop the feeling of warmth spreading through his stomach and chest, burning him on the inside. The pain was good, too good for him to try and push it away. The kiss wasn't just to prove to Ian that Mickey was afraid -- hell, Mickey was terrified -- but it was an attempt for Mickey to try and prove to himself that Ian was nothing but a good fuck to him. Ian wanted a kiss? Mickey would give him a kiss, and once he felt nothing, he'd tell him that they would never be more than just fuck-buddies.

But he didn't feel 'nothing'. He felt too much, all at once, and the reason for it was the stupid ginger he was now desperately trying not to touch in every possible way he could. 

When they were halfway into the movie, Ian did what Mickey expected him to. The kiss had emboldened him, so he didn't hesitate to grab Mickey's head flush between his warm, large hands, holding him captive, giving him no way out, and press a kiss to his lips. The kiss in the van even lasted longer than this one, Ian swiftly pulling away to check Mickey's expression, to make sure he was okay with it, that he wasn't going to push him away.

Mickey didn't push Ian away, even if he achingly tried to. Instead, he leaned in.

Now they were lying on the bed, completely naked, Ian's arm underneath Mickey's head, lying straight, not touching him in any other way, their bodies pressed close to each other, but not touching, both staring up in the ceiling, thoughts clouded by the fuzzy warm feeling they finally allowed themselves to indulge in after sex. They were usually just fast and hard. Now they were slow. Mickey thought he'd mind.

He didn't.

He turned his gaze slightly toward the redhead, to try and inconspicuously observe him, but Ian was already ahead of him, staring at Mickey like he was God's gift to Ian himself. Mickey squirmed. "The fuck you lookin' at?" His voice was raspy but not as cold as he intended it to be.

Ian didn't reply, but he let the hand lying underneath Mickey's neck start tracing Mickey's forearm lightly in gentle patterns. Mickey couldn't hold back the shudder that surged through his body, and, as if they were magnets, the two boys subtly neared each other, not allowing a single sound to break the silence. Mickey told himself they would get up in a minute, that he would tell Ian to back off and get dressed and move to the floor. Just a single minute.

But his eyelids felt heavier and were now dropping slightly as Ian's arm tightened around him, pulling him discreetly closer. Mickey couldn't find the strength in him to fight it. He didn't even stop his mind from racing, wanting more. More kisses. More sex. More Ian Gallagher.

When he woke up the next morning, long before Ian, encompassed in strong arms, lying comfortably in the same position as he fell asleep in, quickly realizing they hadn't moved an inch in their slumber -- Mickey realized he had never slept better in his life.

He knew this was the beginning of his downfall. 

It would only be later in life that he realized how good the downfall really was. 

season 4  
"when one heart finally accepted the other was the one it truly belonged to"

Mickey always slept on the floor of the Gallagher brother's room. It was too risky to sleep on the bed next to Ian, knowing that not a single person, save Ian and maybe Lip, knew he was gay. It had been a long journey to even accept that fact, one that involved heartbreak and loneliness Mickey never imagined he could experience, even the darkest moments of his childhood. But when Ian left, all of a sudden, it seemed as if all the needles of this world were pricking at his heart and insides. His body was constantly aflame, but it wasn't a good pain, not like it used to be. It was guilt, betrayal, all combined with a desperate feeling of yearning for a freckled boy who just waltzed into his life one day, and seemed to never have the intention of leaving. And only when he did, did Mickey realize how much he didn't want him to.

Now, Ian was different. He was too happy, too bouncy, too all over the place. But he was with Mickey and for some reason, that was enough for Mickey to never want to let him go. The kisses they shared when nobody was watching, the passionate sex they now enjoyed and appreciated more than they ever used to, the silent touches and gentle actions that changed them. It wasn't just sex. Mickey realized it was never just sex. It was just simply Ian. 

Mickey felt something for him, something he never thought he'd feel. He didn't know whether to call it love -- Milkovich's don't feel that, it was simply a fact. But whatever it was, that's what it was closest to.

Now, here was, lying on the cold floor in the Gallagher house, blankets propped beneath and over him, a tiny pillow stuffed underneath his head, feeling totally uncomfortable, all because of those weird feelings he had for Ian. It was late at night, and Mickey was nowhere near asleep as the Gallagher brothers' snores pierced through the room. He shuffled slightly, getting nowhere near ready to just close his eyes and go to fucking sleep. A few minutes passed of just trying desperately to shut his mind off and doze off like the rest when he felt a hand lightly press his shoulder. He flinched slightly but then realized who the hand belonged to. It was Ian from up above in his bed, silently dragging Mickey's attention to him. Mickey felt himself relax -- why, he didn't know. Ian Gallagher just had that effect on him, being able to calm him with just a look -- and with a simple touch, Mickey was sure he was hypnotized and would do whatever Ian asked him to.

Ian and Mickey's eyes locked, and Ian gestured to his bed with his chin. Mickey understood, and he hesitated. They were surrounded by Ian's family -- literally, anybody could see them and rat them out. And yet, deep inside, Mickey knew they wouldn't. Along with that, Ian was relentless and stubborn, pushing himself close to the wall, making room for another body to lay next to him. Mickey quietly moved up, hoping they wouldn't wake the others -- that's the last thing he needed right now -- and he settled himself down next to his favorite Gallagher, only slightly touching his arm. But the twin bed was too small for two boys -- hell, men -- and Mickey knew that which is why when Ian quietly, almost soundlessly told Mickey to turn around, he did. And when Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's torso, pulling him flush against his body, even going as far as to intertwine their fingers, Mickey didn't protest. Ian nuzzled his nose in the crook of Mickey's neck.

Mickey wasn't sure if Ian was smelling him. Suddenly, he was too tired to care.

Mickey realized, in his sleepy state that, somewhere deep inside his mind, locked away in a hidden box, stuffed into the farthest corner of his brain, lies a simple fact.

Mickey Milkovich was completely in love with Ian Gallagher.

It was just a matter of time when the fact would burst out, if it hadn't already.

season 5  
"when two hearts accepted the simple truth that, even in the darkest moments of the night, they beat as one"

Mickey didn't know what being bipolar was -- what it truly meant. Yes, he'd done all the research regarding it, trying so desperately to understand it better, to confirm to himself that Ian wasn't crazy and that he would be okay, that he wasn't going to be sick and depressed like before, that he didn't need any goddamn medication, that he was fucking fine. The articles online were telling him the opposite long before Ian himself proved it. 

He had no idea it would be this hard, simply loving someone. It was as if his entire being was solely focused on one thing, and that one thing was the broken boy he had known since he was just a cute, freckled little kid with all the normal southside problems and a carefree smile on his adorable face. It completely overtook him, the need to protect Ian, keep him safe, make it all alright. He tried so desperately to pretend it was like before -- they didn't need to hide now. Now, they could be free and happy together, finally, after so long. 

But life was always going to fuck you over, just when you thought the worst was finally over. It wasn't. It never was.

Ian had looked through him in that hospital as if Mickey were a ghost, not somebody he knew Ian loved, not an important person in Ian's life, not his fucking boyfriend. It was hard -- hard to accept this was how it was going to be, just time after time, more hardships and more obstacles they didn't know how to cross. It was why he tried to drink himself numb, make himself immune to all things Ian Gallagher. It was why he tried not to care, to pretend life was better without Ian, without his crazy, without his warm smile and even warmer eyes, without his loving arms, without his kisses and soft touches.

But Mickey supposed it wasn't a wonder he always found himself back in his lover's arms. How could he stay away when all that was ever protruding his mind were the sea-green eyes he so desperately loved?

When he kissed Ian's forehead, gently caressing his cheek with his thumb, knowing his calloused hands were never going to be anything but gentle with Ian, even in those moments they fought like lions, desperately trying to murder one another as if they weren't completely and utterly in love -- he knew this was when Ian needed the support. He knew Ian wouldn't whisper for Mickey to turn around and then gently envelope him in a bear hug. He was too sick for that, too new at all of the shit the diagnosis brought, and that the meds did to his mind and body. So Mickey did it instead. He gripped Ian gently, trying not to break him, holding him close -- close enough to know Mickey wasn't going anywhere. 

It was going to be hard, but Mickey was here. He was never going to leave.

If you told Mickey that night all of the things that were bound to come, from the moment on the porch of the Gallagher house to the never-ending times he sacrificed it all just for Ian -- his Ian -- he wouldn't be surprised.

He had already known, long before, that this was it for him.

Mickey knew that if he had to do one thing for the rest of his life, loving Ian Gallagher would be it.

season 7  
"when two hearts realized they would only ever beat for each other, no matter what"

Mickey was floating. He felt euphoric, almost -- it was better than getting high, he decided. This feeling of bliss and adoration, mixed with love and contentedness after so long of just being numb and alone and heartbroken. He was lying on top of the blankets, his muscles finally relaxing after so long of being on the lookout, aware of everyone's movements, every single thing around him, unable to focus on anything but making sure he had eyes on everyone at once, protecting himself and his now, once again, closed-off mind and heart. 

It was hard adjusting to prison, it was nothing like juvie, but he already knew it wouldn't be. Maybe it would've been easier had he known there was something good going for him, waiting for him out there once he got out, in eight fucking years. There wasn't, though. There was only one reason why he was even in prison, in the first place. That reason was Ian Gallagher and his overwhelming need to just protect the dumb, stubborn, hardheaded ginger he grew to care so much for. Protect the man he loved, the man he truly lived for. Maybe it wasn't normal, to be so enamored by one person, but Mickey couldn't help it. Even after Ian broke up with him in front of the house, even after Ian left him heartbroken, leaving him to stay alone on the other side of the glass as he walked into another man's arms, even after Ian so blatantly told him he moved on -- he was still here, waiting for Ian to come with him, to start their lives together, finally. Hadn't he waited enough?

Maybe part of the reason why Mickey never let Ian go was that even after all of those times Ian left him, he still fell right back into Mickey's arms as soon as Mickey asked him to. Still held him close and kissed his neck, and nuzzled his nose into it as if it was its home, deeply inhaling before he whispered the 'i love you's' he never got to say. Maybe it was because, whenever Mickey came back for Ian, Ian accepted it, even if the world around him told him not to.

Ian didn't let go of Mickey in the van, not for a moment. They whispered random things to each other in the dark, exchanging long kisses, pretending as if Mickey wasn't on the run, as if Ian was truly ready to leave with him. They both knew, deep inside, this wasn't going to be their happy ending. The feeling was settled deep inside Mickey's bones as Ian repeated how much he loved him, how much he missed him, how much everything sucked without him. Mickey knew Ian would continue pretending that wasn't true in the morning, but he knew it was. That was enough, just to simply know.

Nobody could replace Mickey. Mickey knew that. Ian knew that. The entire world knew that. If only life would allow them to just accept it, without the police, without the diseases, without the homophobes, and without the rifts they tended to put between each other. 

Maybe that moment had come, finally. 

Maybe it didn't, after all.

Mickey was ready to cross the border. Ian wasn't.

Maybe they went their separate ways again -- but it wasn't the same, it wasn't like all those times before. Even if they never saw each other again -- which would rip a hole in Mickey's heart wider than anything alcohol and drugs could ever fix -- at least they knew, with utmost certainty that, no matter what, it was always going to be them -- Ian and Mickey -- and that nothing would ever replace that fire, that nothing was ever going to give them that same thrill again, that it was always going to be them against the world. 

They were each other's ride or die's, even if they spent their lives thousands of miles apart.

But, Mickey knew -- he just did -- that one day he'd come back for Ian again. Maybe it'll be in twenty days, or maybe twenty years -- but when he did, he knew it'll be as if he had never left. 

All he had to do was wait.

season 9  
"when two hearts decided this was the last time they would ever be apart"

That night in the prison cell, when Ian had kissed Mickey senseless and had let all of his pushed-down love escape out into the open, finally, for Mickey, and Mickey only -- life was finally okay. 

Mickey may have been stuck in prison now, for God knows how long, but that was fine. Life in Mexico was hard, but he was used to hard, and maybe life was going to be easier now -- maybe it wouldn't -- but that was fine. The cartel was probably going to kill him one day if they ever found out that Mickey was the one who ratted them out, but that was fine too. Everything was fine now.

Mickey was now, once again, after a year of random, purely release-fueled fucks, finally letting himself feel love and happiness, and passion and lust. All that came along with being in love with one man. One completely crazy, stupid, weird, ginger man that locked him down way back then, when Mickey thought life couldn't get any worse; when Terry was the biggest problem he had to face. He wasn't, but Mickey would only realize that later in life when the stack of problems increased with his ever-growing love. It was simultaneous, he realized.

But now, Ian Gallagher landed his ass in prison, and Mickey knew the moment he found out about the whole Gay Jesus stint, that he was going to snitch. There wasn't a moment of hesitation, not a single doubt in his mind that, yes, he will go back to prison and reunite with Ian, and that Ian will take him back, because he loves him, and that will never be in question. 

Now they were here, in the lower bunk of the small, stupid cell, dangerously close and wrapped up in one another's limbs, feeling finally okay in this stupid environment that should've sparked nothing but fear in them.

But as they rediscovered each other that night, allowing themselves to do nothing but feel, they finally had what always seemed to be unreachable for the couple. They found their way back to each other and they had their happy ending finally, even if life was still complete and utter shit, at least now they were fucking finally together.

This wasn't the end, but merely the beginning.

Mickey was finally home.

season 10  
"when two hearts realized they were just two halves of one"

They were married.

Mickey was legally bound to the love of his life, to his Gallagher, his Firecrotch, his partner in crime, his soulmate. It was the one and only time Mickey allowed himself to be as soft as he wanted, as he laid curled up with Ian on their wedding night, exhausted from the amazing, intimate sex and the beautiful bliss that followed the knowledge that, holy fuck, they were married. This was it. This was how their story finally ended, wrapped in each other's arms, whispering sweet nothing's into each other's ears, breathing each other in, kissing each other's lips and bodies as if they never had before, feeling the ultimate culmination of their love, that high they knew they would never come down from.

It was a long journey. But Mickey knew that, for the rest of his life, however long that may be, he would wake up in Ian Gallagher's arms. 

And that was all he ever truly wanted.

Mickey Milkovich used to not believe in things such as love. But then Ian Gallagher came along.

That was all it took.

The downfall had been awful and heartbreaking and, above anything, lonely. But he wasn't lonely now. Not in Ian's arms. And he knew he never would be.

Finally, their happy ending had begun.


End file.
